Thief
by Lana Del Something
Summary: Victor Frankenstein makes a deal with a thief that slowly escalates into a something much deeper, but this thief is harbouring secrets of her own and it won't be long before someone finds out. Meanwhile Vanessa and Dorian's relationship escalates as does Vanessa's demonic abilities, Malcolm and Ethan do all they can to help. Caliban continues to harass Victor.(Set after Brona dies)
1. Chapter 1

Victor walked with a purpose, he strode through the streets of London, his face cold from the rush of icy, impoverished air. It was late now, around quarter to one in the morning, but still people milled around the marketplace in their droves. Victor knew what type of people they were.

"Just a shilling for the night, love,"

"Come on dearie, you can have me any way,"

Victor walked past, shaking his head and swallowing nervously, his hands balled into fists at his side. He would have been lying if he said he had never thought about losing his virginity to a prostitute but, being a doctor, and knowing the various diseases they tended to carry, he decided against it.

"Please sir, my child..." One young woman begged of him but he only swept past, momentarily closing his eyes. He hated this part of the city. Sometimes the girls brought their children out with them to pull in sympathetic customers.

Victor wondered how people could still believe in God.

"There's a den down this way Sir, you're looking mighty vexed," A child, only eleven or twelve, tugged on his sleeve excitedly. The grubby child had a smear of dirt on his face and wasn't wearing shoes. Victor flipped him a coin which the lad caught eagerly.

"I have my own," He muttered, walking on.

Victor was about to do something much worse than anything they could offer him.

The monster had demanded a bride, and though Victor had originally created him using the fresh body of a man killed in a bar fight, he didn't think he would be able to watch the light fade from a beautiful young woman's eyes any more than he would be able to talk one into bed with him. So he was looking for the next best thing possible.

By the time Victor reached his destination, it was verging on two am. He pulled his coat further around him, not from cold but as a weak form of protection. The shovel that was wedged inside of it pressed hard into his side.

The gates of the graveyard were, as expected, locked; Victor didn't wish to break so he withdrew the shovel he was carrying and tossed it over the high fence. Then, he threw himself at it, hanging from the side as he hauled himself up and rolled over its top.

Victor landed with a hefty thud, knocking the air from him. Sluggishly, he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a gloved hand. There was no time to waste, so, he got to his feet and began searching for an ideal candidate.

It took him nearly half an hour to find what he needed: a fresh grave from just two days ago, Miss. Abigail Slater, nineteen years old.

Victor shook his head with shame but that did not stop him producing his shovel and driving it down deeply into the hard pack earth. The young doctor grimaced as he muscles pulsed under his shirt, this digging was more difficult than he had anticipated and after a while of attempting to pull up the chunk of dirt, he concluded it was stuck.

"Half crown and I don't scream,"

Victor floundered, slipping from the grip he had on the shovel and tripping awkwardly to the ground. He looked up at the dark figure in front of him and smiled, it was only a girl.

Around eighteen she had dark hair fixed under a hat, her dress was ripped in various places which exposed it's under skirt. The poor thing was only about five foot one.

Victor sighed and bent forward to brush the dirt from his trousers.

The boot came down on the middle of his chest and forced him backwards, his head once again hitting the ground, "Half crown, sir,"

Victor's eyes widened as he realised what she was doing, with a look of indignance on his pale face he felt into his pocket for the money which he then handed over. The girl released him but only enough for him to sit up, she inclined her head towards the grave Victor was attempting to exhume.

"I can do that for you," She suggested, "I don't ask questions,"

Victor started at her, she was dawdling, swaying from side to side with a large satchel that bounced off her hip. Victor jerked to the side, he needed to escape but as he did so, she moved too. Victor reached up and tugged at her bag which popped from her shoulder and ripped, vomiting its contents onto the floor. The girl dropped down on top of him, her knees pinning both his arm to the floor.

Victor thought about rolling her away from him, she was tiny and he was sure he could but he was concerned she could have a weapon and, what's more, his heart was beating too fast for him to function properly.

On the floor lay a plethora of silver kitchen utensils, small ornaments and jewellery.

"You're a thief" Victor declared and the girl snorted uncouthly.

"I can assure you, you're in no position to talk, Sir,"

He swallowed. Hard.

She relaxed slightly, this man was no threat to her and by his nervously darting eyes, she was sure her pretty little face was doing its job.

"I need more than this one." Victor mumbled

"I'll explain again. I'll do this for you, Sir, for the very low price of £5 a body, that's less than I'd get selling them myself,"

Victor narrowed his eyes, the scientific side of him told him people never did anything out of the kindness of their hollow hearts.

"Why do you want to help me?"

"I'm not helping you!" She snapped.

"It's not the most moral way of a steady income,"

The girl pressed down on the softness of him arms and Victor winced.

"Who are you to judge me?!" She raged, "You're not the Lord!"

Victor laughed and looked up at the young girl's face, unmarred by scars or wrinkles, he was surprised she hadn't tried prostitution, not that he would have suggested it but deduced if she was in a situation as dire as this, she was desperate. Then again, maybe she had already attempted.

Take aback, she retreated from him, almost crawling away, tears in her eyes.

She straightened up and made to brush the dirt off her dress before looking at its current state and simply sighing deeply.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

Victor sat up, he had his reputation to think of; transporting bodies to and from his warehouse would be far too high of a risk and at least if she was caught, he could deny her.

He handed her a note and pressed it into her hand.

"Take this one here," He gestured to his shovel, "Then follow whatever procedure you usually follow to conceal it, you will follow me back to where I need to bodies delivered and then you will provide me with an address I can reach you at. You will be paid upon reaching the destination."

The girl moved towards the shovel and it was only then he noticed how physically fit she was, her waist sharply dipped in and he guessed she was wearing a corset under her dress.

"How do I know you won't kill me when you get what you want?"

Victor laughed woodenly, running a hand through his golden hair, he was tired, "I don't think I'd be able to, Miss..."

She made no effort to reply to him, Victor didn't even know if she had been listening to his answer as she shovelled dirt over her shoulder, working fast.

"It's Miss Hare," She replied eventually, "Elizabeth Hare,"

"My name is Victor Frankenstein,"


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth pushed a wheel barrow through the streets, a sheet covering the dead body quashed down in side of it. Ahead of her, Victor acted as if they were a separate party.

Now it was closing of four in the morning but Victor knew the sun wouldn't be up for another couple of hours, he had time yet. He didn't talk to the girl, he didn't acknowledge her in the slightest, all he wanted to do was get back to the apartment, get the body down to the lab, lock up and then spend another sleepless night tossing and turning.

"Here," Victor said quietly and without turning, the squeak of the wheel barrow was the only indicator that she was behind him.

Hurriedly, his eyes darting around from the frame of the door, to the lock, to the streets, he unlocked the door of the warehouse. The door swung open and Elizabeth took a small step towards the opening, she didn't bother letting her eyes adjust to the light, she simply didn't care enough. Instead, she tipped the wheel barrow vertically and let the mass of tissue slide out into a heap.

"Careful!" Victor gasped, rushing to the side of the dead girl as if she still had a pulse. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

Victor pulled the body deeper inside the warehouse and then stepped back outside, closing the door behind him as he kept his eyes fixed on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled at the sight of his widened eyes. The man had an innocent face and so it saddened her to see him ferrying dead bodies to and from his home. Briefly, she wondered about his motives but deemed him too clean, too intelligent and quietly attractive to be fucking them.

"And where is it I can reach you, Miss Hare?" Victor asked, his hands still clasped around the handle of the door.

Elizabeth froze, accidentally letting her wheel barrow clatter to the floor.

"Miss Hare?" He asked again, slower this time.

Elizabeth began to back away, she was shaking her head, "Actually, I think this'll be it..."

"Wait!" Victor crept forward, "As you can see I am no...expert...in this field,"

"You'll learn," She hissed before turning as if to leave.

"Ma'am, I'll pay you double!" Victor knew he couldn't possibly pay her that much, he was struggling finically as it was but it made her pause momentarily. "All I ask for is an address at which I can reach you."

"That's a very generous offer Doctor but I can't accept," She gently massaged her shoulder and let out a tremendous sigh, "Now, if you'll excuse me,"

And with that she was gone, she had swept away into the night with the satchel of silver spoons slung over her shoulder.

"Wai- Damn it!" Victor chastised himself for the missed opportunity; he allowed himself a brief moment of frustration before disappearing inside to begin his work.

It hadn't worked. The body had begun decomposing as soon as Elizabeth had put it in the wheel barrow and by the time Victor had got to working on it...an arm dropped off.

Additionally, Sir Malcolm had summoned him on the account of another one of Miss Ives' fits, he was needed to issue a continual sedative and to treat some minor possibly infected bites and scratches. It was ideally a situation that could wait. Ethan, also mostly incompetent, could deal with this.

Victor wrapped his coat around himself, cutting out the sting of the wind that seeped into his arms. There were one thousand stenches that filled the air that morning, fish, meat, shit, sick. Victor fought back a retch as he strolled down the cobbled streets, his doctor's bag clutched tightly in his shaking palms.

"You thieving whore!" Victor flinched away from the sound of a crack on the cobbles. "I'll fucking cut your hands off you little witch!"

Down the alley way he could hear multiple slaps against the ground and it will not surprise you to discover that the next voice Victor heard was too familiar.

It was a scream, "Get away from me! Help!"

Elizabeth didn't know why she was crying for help, if anyone did come to assist her she would most likely be sent to court and hanged for her crime, though she had only stolen a pair of shoes.

Victor's eyes widened at the sound of her voice, he had become paralysed, though flinched as each strike hit the ground, or worse, skin. Finally, he came to his senses and dropped his doctor's bag, running into the alley.

A tall gentleman had removed the belt from his breeches and was flinging to down against the tight ball at his feet.

"You think you can walk in here and steal my boots whilst I sleep? You depraved, vagrant, bitch!"

Elizabeth screamed again, her hands umbrella-d above her head, there were deep red welts all over her arms and her thighs where her dressed had risen up to reveal her bloomers.

"Hey, hey, hey," Victor said, his hands outstretched peacefully.

"Don't hey me, nancy boy," The man turned the belt on him but Victor simply crossed his arms, "This whore's a thief and a harlot, she has stolen from me!"

"Take them! Here!" Elizabeth flung the leather boots at him and reverted to her ball, "Just stop, please!"

"That's not good enough!" The man rose his belt again but Victor stepped it, catching it in his hand. He winced.

"Sir, do you believe that beating this young woman is going to duplicate an unlimited supply of said boots?" Victor quipped.

The brute, large and filthy cocked an eyebrow, "Clearly not boy,"

"Then, now, since you have had your fun," Still looking at the man, he extended his hand back towards Elizabeth, who gingerly took it; Victor helped her to her feet, she was trembling. "Would you be so chivalrous as to return to your drinking?"

A golden coin was flipped through the air towards the man who greedily snatched it up. By the time the man looked up after scrambling to catch it, Victor and Elizabeth were gone.

"You didn't have to pay him," The fragile girl muttered as Victor dragged her through the streets.

"I didn't," Victor laughed jovially, "The coin was fake, hence why we're walking so fast,"

Elizabeth smiled letting herself be taken away by the doctor when she abruptly saw where she was, the same place she had been four days ago. Victor felt her hand wrench away from his own and when he turned she was melting into the crowd.

"Wait!" He said, catching the shoulder of her dress and whipping her back round to face him, "A thank you would be appreciated,"

Elizabeth sighed, running her hand over the welts on her arms, "Thank you,"

After a pause, still gripping her shoulder, Victor spoke, "You don't have anywhere to go...do you?"

She opened her mouth as if to speak but quickly closed it again, her eyes fell to the floor in embarrassment.

"Come, let me tend to those welts,"


	3. Chapter 3

"There isn't anything wrong with being homeless, strictly speaking," Victor promised as he pressed ice against the bruising on Elizabeth's arms. She had asked if he would do her inner thighs next, but he had only swallowed and kept working on her less intimidating body parts.

"Easy for you to say," Elizabeth attempted to stop wincing as she let Victor go to work, instead she gazed around at his apartment, or his 'lab' because that's what it looked like.

It was rustic, all wooden benches and shelves with pencilled in lines from Shelley and Shakespeare on the barren beams. There were hundreds of books lying open on the surfaces, Elizabeth saw drawings of the human body along side books on galvanism and ionic bonding.

Victor's hand swiped at a bruise on her neck and she flinched, as did he.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled bashfully.

Victor had never touched a woman. Not lovingly. He had seen naked women: examined plenty of genitals and breasts, appreciated the female form in life drawing but sat sweating and nervous when they approached him . No, he had never brushed the length of a slender neck with his fingertips, or felt another pair of lips against his own. It only made sense that the young doctor was a virgin, his obsession with his profession had surpassed his need for intimacy but he couldn't help feeling like it was him who repelled them rather than the other way around.

Maybe it was his sallow skin or the bags under his eyes that told them Victor had more pressing things on his mind than his lack of relationships. Or maybe it was his crippling social awkwardness that had led to him being an outcast for his teenage years. Whatever it was, Victor never really made the leap from boy to man in terms of women.

"Could you hold this against your inner thigh, Miss. Hare?" He handed her the bag of ice when she nodded and averted his eyes to her sliding up her dress.

When he glanced back at her he saw she was shaking, her muscles trembled as she pressed the bag against her skin, her brown hair plastered to her forehead but the brave grimace on her face told Victor she had been through worse.

Victor stood and circled around to his bag, he pulled out a length of stethoscope and walked back to stand over her.

"May I?" He gestured to her chest and she nodded.

Victor crouched and slipped the cold steel over her skin. Elizabeth shuddered and her eyes flickered closed.

"You don't have to steal," Victor said gravely, pausing to look at her grey eyes, "There's plenty of work around,"

"As a whore?!" She snapped defensively.

Victor looked taken aback, "No, you could work as a maid..."

Elizabeth laughed, sharp and sweet, "You wouldn't want _me _as a maid!"

"Why? Is not a steady income better than whatever you manage to scrape in now?"

Elizabeth placed her hand under his chin and lifting it to meet her shining eyes.

"I have been a maid, Doctor Frankenstein, and I can assure you whatever I am able to take from their houses brings me more than I would see in a month simply washing their plates,"

Victor stood, swiping her hand away from him like he would a misbehaving child. "You could do with an education."

Elizabeth gripped the wooden bench she was seated on. There was fire blazing in her eyes.

"And with what jurisdiction do you claim I do not have one?!" She practically spat at him, leaning so far foreword in her seat Victor thought she might fall off.

Raising an eyebrow, Victor guided her back to sitting, to continue his examination. As he examined, he noticed a large white scar and a small mole on her chest, he smirked, it reminded him of how they used to check for witches. Victor ignored her shoulders jerking up and down from annoyance. He tapped the scar with the stethoscope.

"Witchcraft has not a pedigree," He laughed quietly and turned from her.

Elizabeth stood.

"'Tis early as our breath,

And mourners meet it going out,

The moment of our death." She bit out each line as she advanced on the Doctor's turned back, she did not see the soft smile that drew out the dimples in his cheeks, "Emily Dickinson,"

"Emily Dickinson indeed," Victor intoned softly.

"My mother died in childbirth. Father and brother later on, cholera. It was either running or the workhouse, I wasn't entitled to any of the money they had left me, being a woman."

Slowly Victor turned, rolling down his sleeves and refastening the cuffs chastely. "I do apologise,"

There was a brief pause between them where they both stared at the ground.

"Miss. Hare, really I could use the cadavers you can fetch, if you won't accept position as a housekeeper,"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, though Victor was older than her, he treated her via his own needs. This scientist-cum-doctor-cum-poet could wait, if he wanted her assistance he would have to try harder than money, she made enough of that through direct selling.

"How I wish I could Doctor," She sneered, twisting her hair up into the bun it had been in before she was attacked, "But I have a new employee whose waiting for a maid, already!"

Elizabeth began to walk towards the door but Victor flung himself against it, his cornflower blue eyes had a steely quality to them, it was determination mixed with desperation, a deadly combination.

"Miss. Hare..." He tried but Elizabeth was tall and slender and beautiful and Victor knew there was no way he could force her to comply.

Slowly his shoulders dropped as he sighed, he grasped blindly for the door handle and opened it, the bustle of London streaming in as he stumbled backwards outside.

Nonchalantly, Elizabeth swept up her skirt and nodded cockily to the Doctor, she slipped him a wink before strolling away into the street. Victor watched her go, her hips swinging widely, she could have passed for a gentlewoman if it had not been for the rips in her skirt.

Sadly, Victor shook his head and disappeared sombrely back into the darkness.

Elizabeth arrived outside the house in a new outfit, stolen of course. A dark blue bodice to set off her grey eyes and black lace that crawled up around her throat like a poison. She rapped her knuckles against the door twice, the skin pulled translucently over her sharp bones.

The door opened.

"Miss. Hare, so good to make your acquaintance," The man in the velvet robe took her and pressed it against his lips, his eyes burning into hers and though she begged herself to look away, she found she couldn't, she was enthralled. "I'm Mr. Dorian Gray and I would love to have you work for me."


	4. Chapter 4

**(Just a reminder, Brona is dead in this version...she just hasn't been used yet...we're just going to suspend disbelief when it comes to the whole decomposition thing...)**

"It's getting worse," Ethan insisted, "Sure, it's taking longer to raise it's fucking ugly head but when it does it's worse,"

"All we need to understand at the moment is that it's not here, it's not turning her in to something she's not," Sir Malcolm stayed seated in the large leather arm chair he was seated in.

"Don't you think I should have involvement in this conversation gentlemen?" Vanessa Ives glided into the room, she long skirts sweeping along the floor. She looked well, healthy. Much better than she had in months, no one would be able to guess that she periodically attempted to rip out her own throat, threw the people she loved most across the room and garbled in ancient languages she had no idea she knew. "Mr. Chandler, Sir. Malcolm,"

Both men straightened when she entered the room, she had that effect on people, it just wasn't clear whether it was her beauty, or the air of threat that she radiated.

"Vanessa, sit down," Malcolm demanded, standing and offering his chair, Ethan followed suit.

"I'm finding standing to be perfectly adequate, thank you," Vanessa said.

Sir Malcolm nodded, knowing that it would be impossible to get Vanessa to do anything that wasn't completely her idea.

"I don't want to put a damper on one of your first mornings back on your feet, Miss. Ives, but I really must insist we find a solid solution to your little ailment," Ethan frowned, leaning against the wall, his fists tucked under his armpits. Ever since Brona had died he had been looking for another woman to fill the void, someone to look after as diligently as he had taken care of Brona, it seemed that position had fallen to Vanessa.

"Yes, well, if it were that easy Mr. Chandler," Sir Malcolm hissed.

"No," Vanessa interrupted, cooly but sharp enough to make both men listen, "Ethan, I think you're correct. Although, it's been more than a month since..."

"Exactly!" Sir Malcolm strode towards the window, "Perhaps it has left you?"

Vanessa brought one of her hands to rest on her heart, Ethan watched as her face turned to a grimace, completion souring and the hand on her heart clenched into a fist.

"No, I still feel it inside. It's writhing around in me, I feel it on my tongue, in the tips of my fingers and once I close my eyes...It's still there."

"So what's the plan?" Ethan asked and Sir Malcolm didn't move from the window, "What draws out the devil?"

"Temptation," Vanessa drawled knowledgeably.

"And corruption," Sir Malcolm added.

"And the pure," Ethan said, "I think we're looking for a virgin here,"

"Yes, I think that could work quite well," Vanessa insisted.

And so the plan was made.


	5. Chapter 5

"...And this is my portrait room," Dorian explained, holding out his candelabra to illuminate the room. Elizabeth stared round at the extraordinarily elaborate place, each portrait framed with gold, leather love seats lined the periphery with small oak tables to rest his many oddities on.

"Who are these people?" Elizabeth asked, she gazed up at the thousands of pairs of eyes looking at her. She shuddered slightly, stepping slightly closer to Dorian, the bearer of light.

"Oh uncles; first, second cousins; ancestors, some strangers,"

"Some strangers?"

Dorian placed his hand on the small of her back, it was like ice and the cold fought it's way through the thin material of her dress. Delicately, he twirled the ribbons that laced her corset together.

"Yes, strangers," He whispered, close to her ear, "Isn't it interesting that you know none of their stories, yet it feels like they know yours, doesn't it?"

Elizabeth nodded, she was lost for words. Initially, she had walked in waiting for Dorian to leave her alone so that she could 'clean'/steal his silverware, but now, she was leaning into the warm breath on her cheek. Elizabeth was hypnotised by his soothing voice.

"May I?" Dorian asked, breaking Elizabeth's concentration, she span away from him.

"What?!"

"Your coat...?" Dorian held out his hand, gently. Elizabeth relax.

"Oh yes, of course," Elizabeth giggled nervously, childishly, and shrugged off her coat.

Dorian took a step closer to her and took the black jacket from her, "I was offering to take it from you, if not only to be able to touch the slope of those delicate shoulders,"

He winked, then disappeared to take her coat from her.

Elizabeth was left alone in the beautiful room, she shivered and the shudder felt like something near arousal. Feeling unnerved, she shook it off and turned to observe what she could take, she swiped a candlestick from an alcove and put it into her bag, her eyes darting around waiting for Dorian to return.

"Here," Suddenly Dorian was directly behind her, she jumped, he handed her a small glass of absinthe. Elizabeth looked down at the drink, dumbfounded, before following Dorian's lead and gently sipping it. It burned her throat, badly.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"It hurts my throat," She admitted sheepishly.

Dorian smirked, he liked the innocence, he wanted more from it, "Intoxication usually does,"

Slowly, he reached out his hand and placed it on her hip but instead of bringing her closer to him like she thought he would, he turned her around to face the wall, to face the portraits.

"What do you think of this one?"

The portrait seemed to be pencil and was of a woman with her back pressed firmly against some kind of masked man, her shirt had been ripped upon and her right breast swelled out from the tear.

"I-I think I like it," She said quietly.

"It's Felicien Rops, it's one of the first depictions of Satanism in Rops' work," His hand had slid up her arm, his thumb caressed her neck, fingers stroking her hair, "I'd like to do something like that to you,"

Elizabeth gasped sharply as she heard the clink of a glass being set down and Dorian's left hand came round to lightly lay upon her breast. Delicately, he kissed her neck, feather light.

"Oh god," She gasped.

The glass hit the floor and shattered.

Dorian leapt away, just as startled as her.

"Oh god, I apologise!" Dorian just smiled, took her hand and kissed it lightly.

"I'll be back shortly,"

Elizabeth's hand went straight to her forehead, dabbing at the heat there. Quickly, she shook her head, she couldn't stay here any longer. Elizabeth fled to the bookshelf, sweeping copies she recognised as leather bound or with gold plating into her bag, as she pulled on from it's lodging it made a sound click but stopped as she tried to pull it out. Clicked at a 115 degree angle.

Confused, she looked around.

And that's when she saw the door. The door that had opened slightly. Elizabeth knew she shouldn't go in but she couldn't help think about the contents of that room, it could possibly hold all the wealth in the whole mansion. Her curiosity outdid her reason and before she knew it she was deep inside the darkened room.

The portrait left her terrified, stumbling backwards into the bare bricked wall. There were no words to describe the horror of the picture, the vague resemblance to the man who had been touching her only minutes before twisted with a snarl and mottled skin, maggot holes ran over the face.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, why would he keep such a vile thing of himself?

She turned to leave, to run, to just get out.

"You shouldn't have done that, my love," Dorian caught her hand and attempted to pull her towards him, to impale her on the dagger he was clasping in his hands. Elizabeth yelled out and pushed away from him, freeing herself from his grip but sending herself spiralling to the ground.

Dorian was only wearing his trousers and despite the fact he was now throwing himself down on top of her in an effort to drive the dagger into her sternum, she was still enthralled by him.

Elizabeth wrapped her hands around his knife wielding wrist, using all her strength to stop it coming down on her chest. Dorian's other hand was planted on the floor, keeping him from falling over.

Elizabeth could see the glisten of sweat on his body, the ugly grimace of his face as he exerted all his strength in an effort to drive the knife down.

"Argh!" Elizabeth cried out, her eyes squeezed shut.

She dropped one hand from the barrier she was creating and drove her elbow into the hand Dorian was using to prop himself up. He lost his balance and the knife came down. The knife came down. Quickly. The knife came down into Elizabeth's shoulder.

Dorian grinned when she screamed but she lashed back out, as she reached to the wound in her shoulder she dislodged the knife and flicked it out towards Dorian's pretty face.

"You bitch!" He snarled, leaning backwards. As he took his hand away and it was smeared with blood. Elizabeth had created a large gash horizontally across Dorian's face.

Stumbling, she swept herself up and ran.

Elizabeth didn't stop running even though she had nowhere to go. Though she knew Dorian would be following her, if not now then later, she had after all left a huge bag of stolen goods in his mansion.

Elizabeth ran to the door and rapped loudly, again and again. Every person she saw was Dorian Gray, every darkened face and mysterious shadow was him, coming for her.

"Help! Help!" She was crying now.

The door opened and she fell forward into his arms, blood smearing his smart suit from the unattended wound in her shoulder.

"He's trying to kill me, please, I need help, I need your help,"

"My dear, come in," Sir Malcolm took hold of the strangers arm and took her inside, ready to show her to a bed. He would bandage her wound and tend to her more in the morning. She must only have been eighteen.

Vanessa stood in the hallway, she was there when, as soon as the young girl was inside, she fainted. She watched stealthily as Malcolm picked her up and made his way up the stairs.

"I think she was just what we were looking for..."


	6. Chapter 6

Malcolm knew it was working. Ever since the girl, Elizabeth, had been brought into the house she had been acting differently. He had seen her grimace in pain when she passed the crucifix on the wall and hiss when she attempted to read from the bible. However, she hadn't been fully thrown into one of her fits and he suspected that they needed more interaction, something closer for Elizabeth to provoke the response needed from Vanessa.

Malcolm had tried to persuade her but Vanessa had refused to go upstairs to where the girl was laying in bloodied bandages, Malcolm expected it was to do with being alone for so long in the house with no female company, and after what had happened with Mina...

"Vanessa," Malcolm pleaded with her as she sat reading a book in the garden, "Think of what we could achieve if only you would cooperate,"

"I am a women, not some continent for you to conquer," She replied amusedly, never looking up from her book.

"I wish for you to be well!" Malcolm replied, turning to crouch by her and gently closing her book.

"And your virgin will not work," She sighed, reopening the novel.

"We will not know if we do not try, Vanessa!" Malcolm tore the book from her hands, bellowing loudly at her.

Vanessa raised an eyebrow, barely flinching as Malcolm roared at her. Instead, she leaned forward and took the book from his hands, brushing the cover down for any marks and then placing it on the bench beside her, she crossed her arms and looked up at him.

"If you insist," Malcolm's faced softened, "Than we will try,"

"I've summoned Dr. Frankenstein to attend, incase anything happens to you,"

"Oh good, I should like to see him again,"

"And the girl... she doesn't have be around any longer than nessacary," Malcolm said darkly and Vanessa's eyes narrowed.

"You would send her back to the streets?"

Malcolm lowered his head, shaking it gently, "If you began to turn, she would not leave the room. Once we reveal why it is we need her, she cannot leave the house,"

Vanessa looked skeptical, and Malcolm took her small hands in his own.

"I will not jeopardise keeping you safe Vanessa, not matter what it takes,"

He offered the woman his hand and Vanessa took it, he lead her up to the top room.

Elizabeth tossed in the bed she had so generously been given, the thin sheets stuck to her clammy frame, her skin exposed by the thin night dress Vanessa had donated. The wound in her shoulder had been treated by Malcolm, wrapped up with a bandage pad and left ready to heal. Though when she moved it seared hotly and prevented her from sleeping at night. Elizabeth still hadn't had a chance to meet the owners of the house properly but she owed them her life. The dreams she stole in fractures of sleep were always plagued by images of Dorian Gray and it stirred something deep inside her.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Elizabeth started, sitting bolt upright and making a frenzied attempt to look presentable, she swiped the sweaty strings of hair behind her ears and pinched her cheeks lightly to make them redden slightly.

"Miss Hare?" Elizabeth heard a gruff voice intone, "Are you decent,"

"I am," She whimpered and the heavy door swung open.

Sir Malcolm strode into the room with his hands drawn behind his back, as if he was about to make a business deal, it mdd Elizabeth break out in a different kind of perspiration. Behind him glided in another woman, so mysterious and ethereal that she seemed to float an inch above the ground. Elizabeth could not stop watching her as she took a seat in the leather armchair in the corner of the room.

"Elizabeth, this is Miss Vanessa Ives,"

"Ma'am," Elizabeth choked out.

"Please, Miss. Ives if you must," Vanessa requested and Elizabeth bobbed her head frantically.

"Miss. Hare, I must admit that while we are genial and benevolent people, our taking you in is not one hundred per cent out of kindness. In fact, we were rather hoping you would help us with something,"

"And that something would be?" Elizabeth asked, her voice hoarse.

"My dear you won't be harmed, I will just need you to be still and be open to the things that this may entail, can you do that for me? For us?"

Elizabeth was pallid, looking grey with the proposition, her fingers contracted and relaxed on the damp bedsheets. ""Do I have much of a choice?"

Sir Malcolm laughed and Elizabeth even thought she saw a smile from Vanessa.

Abruptly Vanessa stood up and came over to the bed, she leant directly over Elizabeth's fragile figure until their faces were almost touching. Elizabeth felt hot, Vanessa's stare burned but she could not look away, completely hypnotised. Vanessa drew away as if Elizabeth hurt her, then began to laugh hysterically.

"What?" Malcolm demanded but Vanessa could not reply, "Vanessa, what is it?!"

"Your prodigy seems to be involved in more cardinal pleasure than you first imagined," Vanessa practically wept before calming herself, shaking her head and returning to her chair.

"Do you feel nothing?" He asked.

"There's something, but not what you wanted,"

Then Malcolm came and sat beside her on the bed, his hands gripping his legs. Elizabeth now began to be afraid that she couldn't give them what they wanted and she felt the repercussions before they came.

"Are you not pure?" He said, then aside, mainly to himself, "But you are so young,"

"Pardon?" Elizabeth asked meekly.

Malcolm flipped, his hand around her throat, pinning her to the wall.

"Are you not intact?!"

Tears streamed wildly down her face for this was what her life had become, a never ending cycle of violence that she did not understand if she deserved. She nodded wildly, she was, she promised she was a virgin. She grasped at his hand and she could smell Malcolm's sour breath and the rasp of his beard close to her face.

"Sir Malcolm, enough," Vanessa demanded, she was standing. At first he did not, but when she took a step closer he let go of Elizabeth, driving himself backwards until he was against the wall.

Elizabeth bolted to the nearest door, the door to the lavatory and locked herself in. Breathing heavily and weeping, she didn't understand even a fraction of what was happening to her but she knew there was a chance she could die here.

"What do you plan to do now?" Vanessa hissed. Neither of them heard the door close behind them.

"Sir Malcolm? Miss Ives?" Victor stood timidly in the doorway, his doctors bag clutched in his hand and his sleeves already rolled up, "I heard commotion so I allowed myself to enter, I hope that wasn't presumptuous,"

"Ah Doctor, just in time," Malcolm shook Victor's hand firmly, "I'll need you to administer a sedative to the patient in the lavatory,"

Victor now could hear the suppressed sob of someone trying to be quiet. "Another Fenton?"

"Not quite,"

Victor nodded and moved towards the bathroom, a couple shakes of the doorknob jimmied the lock and Victor burst in, crouched low and ready to attack if he had to.

"Elizabeth...?" He gasped, drawing back from the thin, trembling girl who had contorted herself into the corner clutching her own shoulder, which had begun to bleed again.

Malcolm looked to Vanessa, who returned the look with added horror and confusion.

"Sir Malcolm," Victor said gravely. He emerged from the bathroom with the half naked girl cradled in his arms, she had passed out. "Would you like to explain to me the nature of this situation, or should I leave?"

"You cannot leave with that girl, Frankenstein,"

Shouldering past Malcolm, Victor nodded at Vanessa before disappearing down the hall. "If you would like to stop me, now would be the time. Otherwise, I shall be back for my bag in the morning,"

Malcolm hoped the girl might die from the wound in her shoulder but then he realised he had let her escape with a doctor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all so much for reading this. Your reviews mean mountains to me, really, it's so reassuring to hear you enjoying it but I also love your constructive criticism so thank you for taking the time to ****write them. It allows me to create better work for you all to enjoy.**

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Victor brought her up to the run down apartment he called home. Sweeping the entirety of his research from the table and down onto the floor, drawings drifting like fallen leaves onto the floor but he didn't care. He laid her down gently on the exposed wood, her foetal body curled tighter around itself and Victor was careful not to bash her lolling head. Quickly, he shrugged himself from his coat and lay it over her, he had nothing else to dress her with, he barely had enough to dress himself and it wasn't as if he always had female callers who abandoned their clothes in his home. He snatched a look at the grisly wound on her shoulder and grimaced, she has bled through the bandages she dislodged, though even a quick glance told him the wound wasn't deep enough to have damaged her tendons.

Victor wondered if Sir Malcolm had done this to her and found himself furious, even more furious that he had left his doctors bag there and therefore had only to bare minimal to treat her with.

Pausing, he stole something from the useless, dilapidated China cabinet in the corner of his room, a little blue leather box. Victor gingerly took out the syringe and a small vial. Dipping the tip of the syringe in the syrupy liquid, he measured out 5mg and flicked the tip to remove any bubbles. He reached for her arm, his forefinger and thumb closing around her wrist, and turned it towards him like the soft, white underbelly of a snake, he searched for the telltale blue coils that protruded with fear.

She snatched her hand away from him and hissed.

"What is that?!" The first words he had heard since he found her spilled from her mouth in a long line of frenzied panic.

Victor nearly let his free hand go to her hair but he faltered and let it die limply at his hip. "Its morphine, it will help with the pain,"

"I'm not in pain," She snarled and then retreated, eyes wide like a dog that only bites in self defence.

Victor gave a clipped nod and placed the syringe back in its box, though he knew she must be, he didn't have the strength to press it.

"Did they do this?" Victor asked calmly and inclined his head to the puncture.

"No,"

"You don't have to lie to me, those people aren't friends, merely aquaintences"

"I'm telling the truth."

"Alright," Victor sighed, "Though I can't say I believe you,"

"They wanted me for something, it didn't work and they got angry. They frightened me, that's all,"

Victor sat down at the table, his head was nearly level with hers, she had revert back to lying down, probably to stop her head spinning, "Let me treat you,"

"Doctor, it doesn't hurt,"

"Maybe so but you risk infection leaving it open to the elements," His head was in his hands, he'd never known a woman raised so well and yet so stubborn, "Let me take care of you,"

"I don't need taking care of Doctor, not when my father and brother were alive and not now they're dead,"

"It. Let me take care of it," He corrected, sweeping up and turning his face away from her so she wouldn't see him cringe at his own words, he had always been able talk straight with razor sharp wit and passion, but he fumbled with the fairer sex.

"Doctor-"

"Victor!" He managed a burst of voice of a stream of silence, "You must call me Victor,"

"Why?" Asked Elizabeth

"If you aren't going to let me treat you, I'm not much use as a Doctor to you," He sighed and drew his hand over his hair, "I'm a friend,"

"An acquaintance," Elizabeth corrected and sat up, her legs swinging from the table.

"Wait," Victor exclaimed, turning and catching her as she tried to walk, "You need to rest,"

"I don't need anything from you!" She fought out against him. Victor, stunned, backed away from the pushing of tiny fists.

Elizabeth's feet curled under her, for a second she was a dancer; on point and ascending and the she collapsed into the China cabinet, it only made a faint rattle since most of the China had long been knocked down but she still cracked her head on the side. Elizabeth slumped, her eyes rolling like dice, flashing white with seconds of flickering pupil. Her dark hair was plastered to her clammy face. In that moment she looked just like a lost child.

Victor sighed in disdainful sympathy, rubbed his tired and red rimmed eyes, it had been a long time since he had slept but he had no idea how exhausting the women, girls, could be.

"Miss. Hare," Victor tentatively went to find her pulse when she attempted to retreat even further from him.

"I don't need your help, Frankenstein!" She yelped.

" , you are impossible!" Victor threw his hands up in response.

"You don't understand!" There were tears in her eyes then, she fingered the pages of a book that had fallen when he cleaned the table: Tennyson. Victor decided he couldn't just throw her back to the street, knowing the perils she had faced in the last day alone she wouldn't last two minutes. He thought about her being hanged for stealing, or having to sell herself to get by and it broke him out in a cold sweat. She was far too fragile.

"Elizabeth... Miss. Hare," He offered his hand to her, "I have never been afraid of the impossible, nor that which I cannot understand. Please, don't run away this time,"

With a sort of trepidation that preceded devotion, Elizabeth took his hand, careful not to move her shoulder too much. Elizabeth's hand fit smoothly in Victor's, her hand was rough and slightly sticky, clammy and cold but he hauled her up and set her down on a nearby chair. Finally, she let him shine a light in her eyes and check her heartbeat with the ice of stethoscope, he directed her head by grasping her chin. His thumb brushed her lip.

"Why would you care if I ran again,"

"When you left, I felt a hollowness in myself. One I had felt before - look up,"

Elizabeth complied as Victor turned her head authoritatively and felt for lumps on her scalp, "When did you feel it before?"

"I lost something, something very important was taken from me and it was my fault, it was my own doing," Victor said briskly, distracting her as he carried out the routine procedure "I didn't cry for you, of course. I went back to my business but there was a hollow feeling. I knew what I had lost before had been murdered, that it was dead, I saw it die, but you? You could have been dead or you could have been alive. I couldn't have that uncertainty, we need more women who can quote Emily Dickinson in this world,"

"We need more Emily Dickinson's," She made his lip curl in a smile. It was brief, like the extinguishing of a candle, before his face dropped back into it's exhausted pout.

"Indeed," Victor agreed, "Everything looks functioning here,"

Victor stood up and began to roll down his sleeves, fiddling with the button that joined the cuffs. Elizabeth, still draped in his coat, came round and took his wrist, closing the button with merely a flick.

"The thing you lost..." She started, "A child?"

Victor laughed bitterly, smiling sardonically down at her and then shaking his head, he gently took his hand back from Elizabeth. "Not...a child, no,"

"May I ask, what than if not a child?"

"That is what you would not want to know, as much as you may think you do," There was a brief silence between them, the sound of the afternoon bustling outside the window, "Now, why were you in that house? Miss Ives, Sir Malcolm, why did they take you in?"

Elizabeth turned from him, she scowled at the floor, "Can't I sleep? I'll inform you of everything tomorrow,"

"Tell me this first," Victor asked, "They're good people, I doubt they wished you harm,"

Elizabeth sighed, and drew Victor's coat around her arms to protect herself from the icy draft trickling into the room from under his door.

"I was working the job I had taken when I left you last time we met. I was... stealing. The man caught me and tried to teach me a lesson, he caught me but I ran to the largest, house I could find and asked to be let in. It was, of course, belonging to Sir Malcolm and his ward.

They let me stay, gave me food, bandaged my wounds but things got strange after that. I heard them talking about the devil, about exorcisms. They were talking of luring the devil out. That was when they approached me, Sir Malcolm asked me to keep an open mind and then Miss. Ives approached me. It was all very queer to say the least, I felt sick but strangely exhilarated. Obviously, something didn't work and that was when Sir Malcolm became enraged. He grabbed me and demanded to know... to know..."

"To know what?"

"To know if I was... pure," Elizabeth said through almost closed lips.

"Pure?"

"If I was chaste..."

"He asked if you were intact? If you were a virgin," Victor said bluntly, his intonation was clinical, simply a word but it still made Elizabeth flush pink and bury her face in the collar of his coat.

"But it didn't work?"

"Miss. Ives said she felt something, but not what they were looking for,"

Victor thought hard. Why would they want her? Why would they ask if she was a _virgin? _If they needed a virgin surely they could have asked... But then how would they have known? He had never told them.

Then he understood, they were using her to try and drive the devil from Vanessa and into an innocent vessel.

Victor stood.

"You can sleep in the bedroom, through that door, I have some letters to write," Elizabeth left the coat on the back of the chair and disappeared into the next room and Victor sat down at his writing desk. He dripped ink across the page as he hurriedly scribbled, _'Sir Malcolm'_, on the page.


	8. Chapter 8

After he had arranged the meeting Victor told Elizabeth where he was going and that he'd be back in a few hours; that she should spend the rest of the day resting and _please _don't touch anything in the main room. Then, he disappeared for the day, sweeping his coat from the table where he had left it last night. It only took him twenty minutes walking to get to Sir Malcolm's mansion where he then knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to open.

It did.

Sir Malcolm looked at him gravely, he looked pale and annoyed at Victor's mere presence. He held out Victor's leather doctor's bag and shook it expectantly.

"You must know I haven't come here only for _that_," Victor smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"What else is it that you want, Doctor?!" Sir Malcolm snapped.

"Doctor Frankenstein!" Vanessa hummed from the hall, "What a pleasure to see you,"

Victor smiled tautly and nodded, "A pleasure to see you too, Miss. Ives,"

"Hey Doctor F!" Ethan said as appeared behind Vanessa, for a man who had just lost the woman he loved he was especially chipper.

Malcolm sighed heavily, "Come in, Doctor,"

Striding in, Victor swiped the bag from Malcolm's and gave Vanessa a chaste kiss on her hand.

"Sir Malcolm, I apologise for the events of yesterday but you must understand how it appeared to me. Now I know you weren't the source of dear Elizabeth's misery, I see no reason for their to be any animosity between us,"

Sir Malcolm opened his mouth as if he made to reply but Victor quickly jumped back in.

"I know what you were trying to do, and I know that it didn't work," Victor attempted to make his points blunt, "I think I might be able to help,"

"Help?!" Sir Malcolm barked.

"Yeah Doc, what are you planning on doing?"

"Follow me," Victor asked as he headed towards Vanessa's room.

**...**

When in Vanessa's room, Victor began to prepare a syringe of sedative.

"I care about your welfare as much as anyone else in this room, Miss. Ives. And therefore I think it could imperative that I tell you all that I, in fact, have never been...intimate...with a woman,"

Ethan burst out laughing, a huge guffaw that sent tears rolling down his cheeks. Vanessa too had a small smirk on her face, Sir Malcolm was the only one who was still serious.

"Yeah, that's not much of a surprise my friend," Ethan clasped him hard on the shoulder.

Victor looked at him and exhaled hard. "Yes, well, that's the fact of the matter but I believe it means I can be of some assistance to you,"

"Correct," Sir Malcolm nodded and gestured to Vanessa who floated easily towards Victor, "Just relax Doctor,"

Vanessa sat on her bed and watched Victor through narrowed eyes. Victor looked frantically from Malcolm to Ethan, the hand clutching his doctor's bag was shaking with nerves as he focused on Vanessa Ives forest green stare.

"Dies irae, dies illa  
>Solvet Saeclum in favilla<br>Teste Satan cum sibylla.  
>Quantos tremor est futurus<br>Quando Vindex est venturus  
>Cuncta stricte discussurus.<br>Dies irae, dies illa!"

The low growl that erupted from Vanessa was primal, she sounded like the whirring of a machine, the grinding of bones or nails on a chalkboard. Victor stumbled back against the wall, he laughed, slightly afraid and sought the reassurance of the other people in the room.

"It's working!" Victor breathed and Sir Malcolm jerked his head in acknowledgement.

"So it is,"

"So why didn't it work with the other girl?" Ethan drawled, though he hadn't been there, "Elizabeth?"

"Because she had already been _fucked _by the devil,"

All three mens head's snapped to where the voice was coming from. Vanessa was grinning like a maniac, her nails were deeply embedded in her own décolletage, spewing blood that drenched her already black dress.

"Oh fuck," Victor hissed as he threw himself forward to try and staunch the bleeding.

Vanessa, or rather what was in Vanessa place, had other plans. An otherworldly howl erupted from her mouth as she writhed away from Victor's grip. She snatched a letter opener from her bedside and slashed wildly at him. There was so much blood. There was so much blood and it was difficult to decide whose was whose but people were bleeding.

Victor cried out and he rolled off the bed and onto the floor, huddled into a ball.

With a cackle of triumph Vanessa threw Malcolm across the wall with no effort whatsoever. The man struck his back on the wall and slumped to the floor.

However, she didn't see Ethan creep up behind her with the syringe of sedative. With a wild abandon that overrode everything he had ever been taught about women he shoved one arm over her chest, wrenched her backwards and slid the needle up into her exposed arm. The yelling and screaming of the deranged woman slowly petered out to a heavy, sleep filled, breathing and Ethan fell back.

Sir Malcolm moaned quietly as he managed to get to his feet, Ethan came around and offered him a hand. Silently, both traded signals of 'what happened to Victor?'

Victor was curled up in a ball, his hand clamped on his wrist as it continuously shot blood, he whimpered as his head spun wildly. Victor could see the blood coming through his fingers but it was also like his fingers weren't there. Everything was just swimming around him.

"You're okay Doc," Victor was aware that Ethan had his wrist now and was wrapping it tightly in a bandage, he grasped Ethan's arm and inclined his head towards Vanessa, his stomach was turning from the rank scent of blood in the room.

"Vanessa, her chest," He breathed and Ethan quickly clasped his friend on the neck and then flocked back to Vanessa.

**...**

Victor's walk home was shaky, he had to stop several times in order to prevent himself from falling over. His slashed wrist had stopped bleeding thanks to the piles of bandages that were wrapped around it. It was uncomfortably tight.

Victor slipped his key into the lock of the apartment and jimmied open the door with a pop, he wondered how he would explain the blood on his shirt to Elizabeth.

He heard a clatter of metal, of falling objects and the smell of rosemary.

When he was in the room, he stopped, paused briefly and then walked over to the table that Elizabeth was sat cross legged on.

"Victor," She started breathlessly.

"Be quiet," He demanded.

Victor walked slowly towards the table, he fingered the objects there: a metal pentagram, a small faceless doll, sprigs of rosemary, an empty bowl, and three containing a burning twig, earth and water; finally, two burning white candles.

Picking up one of the burning candles, Victor felt it, weighted it in his hands.

Then he hurled it to the other side of the room, it broke in half and extinguished itself.

"What is this?!" He yelled and Elizabeth shrank back.

"It was a healing spell..."

"A heal- a healing spell?!" He laughed almost hysterically and then stopped, "How did you know I had something to heal,"

She looked first at his shirt and then down to his wrist and then attempted to slide from the table.

"Sit down!" He yelled again but slightly quieter this time, stunned and confused, "I don't want you moving around until I've figured this out,"

His hands went to his hair, he tugged hard on his curls and let out a grunt of exasperation.

"Victor-"

"Will you stop!" He gestured with a tensed extended finger.

Then he saw her shoulder, the pale, smooth skin, unpuckered by scaring or injury.

"How-how did you-?"

"It was spell designed to heal-"

"No it wasn't," He growled, "It was metaphysical hokum!"

"It was real,"

"You're a liar," Victor walked forward and took hold of her elbow, he dragged her from the table and marched her to the door. She spun and blocked the door.

"I never asked you about the bodies, why must you press me on this?!"

"Because you do not know what the devil is! You are playing with a darkness that is so powerful it will destroy you, you are a child!"

"I am a woman! And I know what he will do...from the inside out,"

Victor remembered what Vanessa had said as she had fallen under another thrall and he shuddered.

"Get out," He pushed her again towards the door, "I won't have you under this roof, not while you pray to the devil,"

"I never pinned you as God fearing, Frankenstein," She cried out, the tears sparkling in her eyes turned it into a weep.

"I am not afraid," He wrenched open the door and pushed her out, "I am disgusted."

Victor was about to close the heavy door on her, turn his back and watch her leave again.

Instead, it was time for another visit.

Caliban shoved Elizabeth back into the room and slammed the door hard behind him, Victor stumbled backwards, hitting the table hard. Caliban had his hand wrapped around Elizabeth's mouth, nose and jaw, his other arm pinning down her own.

"You are taking _too _long, Frankenstein,"

Elizabeth screamed and wriggled her tiny body against the monster's grip, kicking her lithe legs off the floor in a bid to escape. He was suffocating her. Her screams were muffled and growing weaker.

It took Victor literally seconds to realise what had happened.

"This one should do," Caliban said, lowering his head to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her hair, "So warm, so...pliable,"

Victor skittered towards the other side of the room, "No!"

Caliban hauled Elizabeth off the ground, out of Victor's reach, "Creator?" The scarred man laughed bitterly.

"Not her, Caliban. Not her,"

Victor watched as his gripped increased, his fingertips digging into Elizabeth's cheeks. Victor moaned, his hands flying to his face in an attempt to black out what was happening to him. Victor choked on sobs that stuck in his throat, wiped the tears that clouded his eyes.

"How could you?" Victor barked, spraying spittle across the room, "How could you do this again?!"

"How could you take this for yourself after all you have promised me, Doctor?!" Caliban spat straight back and then laughed loudly. Elizabeth was beginning to go limp.

Victor, seeing this, stole a scalpel from his bag and sprinted towards his monster, the scalpel clutched in his hand.

Caliban sighed expectantly and then Victor was lifted high into the air and gasping desperately for it. His head cracked into the wall he was driven against, again and again until the scalpel clattered loudly to the floor. Victor clawed wildly at Caliban's hand gripping his throat, it began to squeeze tighter the more Victor struggled. Behind him, Victor saw Elizabeth slumped on the ground, she was moving very slowly, turning her body to look at them.

"Hurry up, Frankenstein," Caliban let go and Victor slid slowly down the wall to rest at its base, "You are trying my patience,"

With that, Caliban swept from the room with ease and disappeared down the stairs.

They stayed for a while, quiet and unmoving as Victor recovered. He then decided to check her, hoping her prone state was mainly just fear. Crawling towards her, he took her hand to check her pulse, she was breathing rapidly. Victor sat with his head on his knees, he never got used to these surprise visits from Caliban although sometimes he was able to mask them.

"He called you...Creator," Elizabeth whispered hoarsely.

"He did," Victor said, his throat tight, "Because I am,"


	9. Chapter 9

**MrsPotatoHead: No need to worry about swearing, pet! Thanks a lot for your continued support and wonderfully detailed reviews!**

**A & Anon: Again thanks for the review, anything you want to see or any suggestions let me know!**

**Warning: Sex.**

"You made him?" Elizabeth asked, gobsmacked, "You conjured him? From hell?"

"No," Victor sighed, frustrated, "I _made _him, from people, from flesh and blood,"

"The bodies," Elizabeth gasped and Victor nodded.

He scrambled to his feet, rubbing his neck despite knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop the bruises forming. "I am not a good man,"

Elizabeth slowly raised herself from the ground as well and came to stand behind him. He was ashamed to look at her, ashamed to face her after his outburst only to be exposed only moments later. He hated himself, all he had done and still chose to do.

"Why?" She asked, she was trembling with fear. Never before had she been afraid of the young man but now, he was more.

"You couldn't possibly understand," He spat, gripping the table in front of him so hard his fingernails left indents.

"For science," It wasn't a question, it was an understanding.

Victor laughed and swept his curls from his eyes, he turned and strode towards her and Elizabeth, afraid, retreated from his advancements.

"And what would you know of _science, girl?!" _She understood his anger, it was manifested shame that was being directed at her, "With your _crystals_, and your _candles-"_

_"_My power is greater than _anything _you could produce in your little laboratory, Frankenstein!"

"-Your saying my monster didn't scare you? No?" Victor laughed, gesturing to the door.

Elizabeth gingerly touched her mouth, where that _thing _had controlled her with the flick of her hand. Of course she had been afraid, she had been terrified but so had Victor.

"That monster is no more yours than it is mine," She said gravely.

Victor's arrogant smile faltered and suddenly dissolved into a quivering lip, he looked as if he might faint. His face was grey with sickness and with the back of his hand he quickly swept away angry tears, hot on his cheek. With a growl of anger he turned on his apartment, sweeping books onto the floor, glass shattered around his feet as bell jars collapsed around him. With a fury he had not acted on before he stole pages from his notebooks and tore them to shreds, kicking at the debris on the floor he screamed and screamed, he shrunk down onto his knees and threw his head to the floor again and again and Elizabeth could not stand to see him in such turmoil.

"Victor!" She shouted at him, standing still but willing him to stop.

He did, instead he lay with his head on the hard wood floors and groaned deliriously to himself, the smell of damp old books and floating pages swept around him.

"What have I done," He sobbed.

"Oh Victor," Elizabeth said, she came to him, sweeping her dress up so she could kneel by him. She laid a hand on his head and suddenly he turned to her, moving his head to rest in her lap, his arms snaked around her waist and she, though surprised, let him.

"Explain to me what I've done," He asked, his voice muffled and his sobs wracking.

"Oh Victor, Victor," She said, her throat tightening quickly as she pulled the broken man's face up to look at her. Victor knelt up and allowed her to kiss his cheeks and jaw and eyelids.

"We've both created things," She told him feverishly trying to help him, "We've done things we couldn't control,"

Abruptly, Victor stilled. He pulled her up by her shoulders and stood her up, he was tall above her small frame. He nodded curtly and took and step back from her, creating a chasm of space between them, his hand squeezed into fists.

"Thank you," He said but that was all.

Elizabeth closed the space. Victor attempted to step away again, her closeness was too much for him too ignore professionally, but she grabbed his hand.

"Let me?" She asked cryptically and Victor did not know the answer.

He still didn't know the answer as she placed her hands on either side on his face and brought her lips to connect with his. It was like kissing a dead thing, the man was petrified with fear. Elizabeth pulled away, letting her hands hover above his face in a moment of frozen embarrassment. She flushed red and looked down at the floor when Victor took hold of her wrists. Elizabeth looked up at his light blue eyes, wet with trepidation, he wanted to feel the folds of her chapped lips create friction against his. Victor sought the comfort that she was promising in her words and her calm face.

He regretted ever calling her a child. She was a woman. His woman.

Running his hands up from holding her wrists he felt the bones that jutted out, she was so thin and breakable. Victor's fingers crept up her forearms, following the violin bow hidden just under her skin; as he moved past her elbows and her shoulders, he fumbled with the slope of her neck, pressing too hard because he decided he wanted to stay there forever…just caressing the incline of her neck and the soft space where her throat met her jaw. Though when Elizabeth moved in to kiss him again, he was aware of another desire within him. A mortal sin.

"Elizabeth," Victor's repeated shakily, his heart beat at his chest like a fist on flesh.

"No, no. Stop talking," Elizabeth moved in, pressing her body against his and silencing him with a peck on the lips.

Victor's hands were on her hips, the pads of his fingers pressing gently on the materiel of her long dress, his forehead knocked against her own, his breaths were careful; he swallowed and swayed, delirious with the smell of her. Elizabeth cradled him and let him bask in the warmth of a feminine figure.

Elizabeth looked up to question him but when she saw him looking down at the ground, his fingers trembling with embarrassment, she already knew he was a virgin, it wasn't hard to guess.

Elizabeth smiled softly and brought him back to her lips, to kiss him into submission, to comfort him as she walked him backwards until he fell down onto the bench by the large wooden table. All the while, she fumbled with the ties of his breeches. She knew what to do but she did not know how, she knew he needed her guidance.

Looking at her, standing in front of him, pulling his breeched apart, Victor was wide eyed and the beating of his heart threatened to stop completely when she gathered up her skirt in one hand, adjusted herself and swung her leg over him. She wrapped her delicate arms around his neck as she lowered herself on to him, her eyes closed and she exhaled softly as her skin met his. Elizabeth tried to stop Victor's anticipatory shaking but he was frozen beneath her.

"It's alright," She muttered down at him, laying her forehead against his in an effort to stir something in him.

Victor wanted to touch her, to hold her, but the things she was doing to him made it near impossible to move. Unwilling to give up, he let her guide his arms up to her breast, as she rocked herself. It was still clothed by Victor could feel the swell and it and it sent the heat of the devil rushing through him. He let out a whimper of approval as he allowed her to impale held upon him, her fingers twirling strands of his hair. Elizabeth's hair was sprawled out as dark as the night sky, her eyes flickering and a smile etched on her lips as she mewled softly, one hand tucked under her skirt.

The distance between them felt impossibly large and so, finally, Victor moved towards her. Kissing her shoulders and her chest and the tops of her breasts that peaked out the top of her corset, the salt from her skin was sharp in his mouth but he never wanted the taste to leave. He wanted all of her, he wanted the scar on her chest and the concave dips of her collar bones where perspiration had begun to collect; Victor wanted her thighs pressed tightly on either side of him and her hands in his hair and her unabashed sensual abandon.

Looking up at her stretched out body, the flat plane of her stomach as she arched backwards with a cry, he implored her to open her sparkling eyes and look at him but then again he didn't. Then again he never wanted her to look at him again, the things he had done, the things he had left to do yet, he felt tainted.

As if she knew, Elizabeth stopped, her head snapping up to look at him. She sunk down, aware that Victor was losing his length, she worried briefly that it was her that had caused it but knew better than to play that selfish game.

Victor's head fell forward onto her shoulder the same way a hanged man falls to his death and he inhaled deeply the musky smell of her gleaming skin, he held her tiny body tight to himself and slowed them to a slow sway, a waltz between them.

Elizabeth rested against his elbow as he cried, his body convulsing with suppressed sobs and she froze, her face contracted into an ugly ball, her lips quivering and she understood it wasn't going to be okay.

As Victor's cries filled the silence of the dark room, She ignored her own tears and stroked the back of his head, her other hand gliding softly down his back with gentle touches.


	10. Chapter 10

Victor lie in his bed.

Awake.

And alone.

They had opted no to spend the night together, rather they decoupled almost immediately and Victor disappeared to his room. Elizabeth, well, he didn't know if she had stayed or left but he hadn't heard the door if she had decided it was all too much. He hadn't slept, he had played over what had happened in his mind, over and over and over and over. Pulling apart every minuscule mistake he had perceived he had made. So he had not slept, though tired, he had tried but images of her terrified face and Caliban's grin had plagued the corners of his sleep.

He debated killing her.

He knew he was capable of it, he would do anything to keep his secret safe. Though she had been the only woman in years to show him affection for free. She demanded nothing of him when she had kissed the palms of his steady hands while the rest of his body shook like a leaf attacked by Autumn wind. They had reached a deadlock, neither of them wanted their secrets to become public knowledge which either meant they were both safe, or both constantly in danger of one of them telling someone else.

In the morning, Victor took a while rolling out of bed, he prolonged having to see if she had left or not. The door creaked open a fraction and Victor peaked through the gap in the door before pushing it fully open. Elizabeth was sat at the wooden bench, her head resting in her arms on the table. She was asleep. Victor approached her slowly, his shoes soft enough not to make any noise on the floor and crouched by the bench. Tentatively, she reached out and let his fingers rest lightly on her hair, he traced the wave of it through to its ends.

Victor left her to sleep, knowing she probably just as tired as he had been. Instead, he went to his kitchen and grabbed two pieces of bread and impaled on pointed skewers which he rested into the open flames. As the bread began to toast, Victor watched Elizabeth sleep. He buttered the toast and set a plate down by her head for when she woke up, then went to check his post.

There was a letter from Sir Malcolm, asking for his presence.

Victor sighed loudly and then went to touch Elizabeth's shoulder gingerly.

"Elizabeth," He said softly.

"Hmm?" She asked as she woke up, smelling the warm smell of buttered toast.

"Sir Malcolm requires me," He said sardonically and Elizabeth beamed, "Would you like to accompany me?"

Victor slid the plate towards her encouragingly, and she picked up a slice of toast. "I'd love to,"

Everything seemed forgotten.

**...**

"Doctor Frankenstein, if you'd accompany me, Ethan and Miss. Ives upstairs?" It had been two minutes since Victor and Elizabeth had stepped through the door but Sir Malcolm was eager to get started. Vanessa, less so, given the large amount of bandaging still wrapped around her chest.

"Hello Miss. Hare," Vanessa smiled very slightly and Elizabeth shied away from her beautiful stare.

"Indeed, Miss. Hare. We would invite you to join us but I feel this is more of a private affair. Although you'll be delighted to know Vanessa's gentleman-"

"He's not my gentleman," Vanessa said, still looking at Elizabeth.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, "Anyhow, Mr. Dorian Grey has agreed to accompany on a walk through the gardens,"

Elizabeth's blood ran cold, she froze, her muscles seizing.

"How lovely to meet you, Miss. Hare," Came the same sultry voice she had heard before but Elizabeth would not turn to meet it, instead she fixed herself on Victor, imploring him to figure out what was wrong. Even when Dorian picked up her hand and pressed it to her lips, she did not look at him.

"Something wrong?" Victor said, hushed, lightly touching her arm.

"No..." She replied, "The pleasure is mine Mr. Grey,"

"Very good," Malcolm said gruffly before taking off to the upper rooms of the house, Vanessa followed languidly and Ethan, who had been silent since Victor's arrival, shrugged at the young Doctor before also following suit. Victor smiled at Elizabeth and kissed her hand, before taking off as well.

**...**

"I'm not going anywhere with _you," _She hissed, backing away from the suited gentleman.

"Relax, Elizabeth," He practically spat her name, "Now you've cropped up in our little _inner circle _I can hardly off you without suspicion. "

As if that made things okay, Dorian gestured to outside and Elizabeth followed, keeping her eyes on him at all times. As the cold air hit her, Elizabeth shivered, but that could have been because of the company if she was true to herself.

"The maze," He grinned at her, and both of them gazed at the meters of topiary that seemed to stretch of forever.

Elizabeth rose an eyebrow and folded her arms tightly across her chest, she shook her head and created more space between them.

"The chairs then,"

So they moved towards the black wrought iron table and chairs set out on a stone patio.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" He asked and she shook her head, her lips turning white from how tightly she was holding herself. Dorian tapped one cigarette on the table before producing a match book, lighting a match, and deftly twirling the cardboard through his fingers while grinning at her.

"I would never harm a young women like you, Elizabeth," He smiled, "It's you who should be the deadly one,"

Elizabeth did not smile, she poured over the glass doors where her three rescuers would emerge once they were done with whatever they were doing in the top room. She jumped when Dorian gripped her hand, her chair tipping back onto two legs, Dorian pulled her back sharply, still smiling.

Then she noticed.

"Your face!" She exclaimed, writhing away from his grip, "It hasn't scarred,"

_Because the portrait absorbed it. _She thought and now her chances of being killed were all the more likely.

"I would never tell," She said in an inhalation of air.

"No, you wouldn't," Dorian took a drag on his cigarette and let the smoke curl around his beautiful mouth, then his tongue licked out and moistened his pale pink lips, "Because if you did, I would not hesitate to kill poor young, Doctor Frankenstein,"

He sat back, pleased with himself.

**...**

"It's not working," Ethan said tiredly, sat in his armchair.

"No," Victor agreed, his cheeks flushing as he packed up his doctor's bag.

"Why not?!" Sir Malcolm demanded, throwing his fist down on the table.

Victor jumped.

"Well, I'm not...exactly...a...I'm not exactly a v-" Frankenstein muttered, "I've engaged in carnal relations since our last encounter."

"What?!" Sir Malcolm demanded while Ethan hollered in the background.

"Doctor F!" Ethan whooped.

"How could you be so _selfish?!" _Malcolm strode quickly towards the young man and hoisted him up by his waistcoat. Victor's back slammed against the wall and his hands flew to Malcolm's wrist. Ethan quickly followed, trying to ease the situation by placing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder

"I can guarantee I'm not the only one in this room who you would consider _selfish_, Sir Malcolm," Victor growled and the man dropped him, avoiding Vanessa's gaze with embarrassment.

But Vanessa looked sombre, melancholy almost.

"Vanessa, I have a solution,"

**...**

"You listen here you conniving bastard, I will not be your pawn!" Elizabeth hissed, angry tears sparking her eyes, "I won't be threatened by you! I'm not-I'm not scared of you..."

"You shouldn't be," Dorian laughed, "But Victor should,"

Elizabeth let out a half whine, half yell of frustration, and buried her face in her hands.

"No one can know about this, Elizabeth," He told her casually, "You cannot tell anyone about this conversation or the fact we were acquainted before this,"

Elizabeth cried angrily into her hands, her jaw locked.

"Do you understand me?" He asked and then, when she did not answer he leant across and pulled her closer to him, "I said, _do you understand me?!_"

"Elizabeth?" Dorian dropped her hand like it was a lump of burning coal and Elizabeth swiped the lines of wet from under her eyes.

"Yes," She said breathlessly.

Victor stood in the doorway, he stepped down and towards her. "Could you come upstairs with me, I believe you're needed,"

Narrowing his eyes when she didn't stand up, he came even closer towards her, "Is everything okay?"

"Of course," She said, standing, turning and smiling radiantly at him.

Victor gave a curt smile back and placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her inside to house. She nodded thanks at him and disappeared in doors. Victor followed with her, but not without sparing a look at Dorian Grey who had the most unusually smug grin on his smirking face.


	11. Chapter 11

"You told them?!" Elizabeth hissed, creeping closer to Victor who stood his ground.

"Yes, I told them,"

"And what exactly gives you that right?!" She was seething and he could tell, he could she was edging dangerously close to disclosing his own secret. He moved towards her, his head down as the words leaked out of his mouth.

"Elizabeth, please," He whispered.

Elizabeth's wide eyes darted around the room, she nibbled on her fingernail and slipped back towards the door. She did not know these people and these people didn't understand her, they lived in mansions and had afternoon tea and wore dresses with no rips in them. They had probably never experienced the things she had. Fear, pain, death.

"It's alright, Elizabeth," He tried to placate her using her name, "Will you sit down?"

She moved achingly slowly to a wide, leather armchair and sank down into it, "Why?" She hissed once more.

"Not for my own benefit, but for Vanessa's," Victor looked up at the stately woman stood in the corner of the room and Elizabeth felt a pang of pain in her chest, like she'd been struck by a dart.

"Whatever does she need from me?"

Vaguely, in the back of her the room, she heard Sir Malcolm clear his throat. Victor placed his hand on her arm and the wrenched it away as if her skin was red hot, he then stared embarrassed at the floor.

"I think you have some catching up to do," Ethan chuckled from the background.

And so they began to tell her.

**...**

Elizabeth found everything hard to believe at first but they were kind, and they let her sit dumbfounded for a good half hour and she suspected that they would have let her sit for longer if Vanessa hadn't fallen face first on the bed and started growling,

"Grab her arms!" Ethan yelled, flocking to her side and grappling with her wrists

Victor took her shoulders and shook her hard. "Elizabeth, Elizabeth we need you to tell us what to do,"

S[ells raced through Elizabeth's mind just like she was flicking through them in one of her books, some she didn't dare attempt, others they didn't have what they needed.

Elizabeth spotted Vanessa's metal jewellery box and two burning lanterns on her bedside.

"We need a circle," Elizabeth jumped up, tripping as she stood on the folds of her long dress, Victor caught her hand to steady her but also to guide her round into a circle.

"I need a sedative, just in case," He dropped her hand and flocked to his medicine bag.

"No!" She shouted and pulled him back to stand around the bed.

Victor looked at her quizzically and pulled on his curls in a frustrated '_science is so easy to trust ' _manor but Elizabeth hushed him and assured him to take hands with Sir Malcolm.

"I can sedate her if it comes to it," She admitted, slightly coyly.

"Mr. Chandler is it? I need you to take my hand,"

"What will us all holding hands do Miss. Hare?!" Sir Malcolm asked gruffly.

As Elizabeth went to the reply, Ethan took her hand, firmly.

"It wouldn't kill you to have a faith in the girl," Ethan growled, his other hand clutching the cross on his neck.

"Sir Malcolm, Mr. Chandler, I'lll need you to join hands across Vanessa,"

Vanessa had begone to chant her regular incantations, writhing around on the bed, her eyes rolling backwards and her back arching as her mouth curled into a hideous grin but Elizabeth was about to rival the words spiralling from Vanessa's mouth.

The small woman at the head of the circle wracked her brain for the words.

"Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos,

Regna terrae, cantata Dea psallite Aradia.

Caeli Deus, Deus terrae,

Humiliter majestati gloriae tuae supplicamus" Elizabeth stumbled over the words, and watched as Victor turned his gaze to her with a look of expectation.

"Keep your attention on her!" Elizabeth yelled. "Um, shit." She just couldn't grasp the words she needed and now the three men were all staring at her. Again, she demanded for them to keep their attentions on Vanessa...and also to excuse her language.

"It's no use, it isn't working!" Victor yelled and dropped her hand, almost turning to get a syringe when Elizabeth snatched it up again.

"Ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate,

Laqueo, and deceptione nequitia,

Omnis fallaciae, libera nos, dominates.

Exorcizamus you omnis immundus spiritus

Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio,

Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,

Omnis and congregatio secta diabolica.

Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, dominates,

Ut coven tuam secura tibi libertate servire facias,

Te rogamus, audi nos!

Ut inimicos sanctae circulae humiliare digneris,

Te rogamus, audi nos!

Terribilis Deus Sanctuario suo,

Cernunnos ipse truderit virtutem plebi Suae,

Aradia ipse fortitudinem plebi Suae." Sir Malcolm could see Vanessa was now drooling, she had relaxed completely and was only rolling slightly from side to side like a wounded animal.

"Benedictus Deus, Gloria Patri,

Benedictus Dea, Matri gloria!" Elizabeth finished the incantation and broke away from the circle, snatching a piece of paper from Vanessa's writing desk and them shoving her hand into the pocket of Victor's trousers, his eyes widened in shock and awkwardness, she produced a matchbook. Elizabeth stole a match and lit it, then she guided it to the piece of paper that began to burn and then she started to collect the embers on the wooden floor.

"I need that jewellery box," She held out her hand and Ethan kindly delivered it to her. "You all need to watch out now,"

"Why?" Sir Malcolm asked, lowly, confused.

"I'm about to trap the demon inside of her,"

There was a loud bang, like the popping of balloon or the firing of a gun and Elizabeth dropped the box onto the embers. turning to see what had happened she shielded her head as what looked like a large ball of black smoke bounced from service to service around the room. Ethan was sprawled on his back on the floor, his head slumped by the wall. Victor was leaning over him but instead of tending to the unconscious man he was also attempting to protect himself from the flying black smog. Sir Malcolm was kneeling by Vanessa who seemed oblivious to the world, his hand feeling her forehead.

Elizabeth backed away from the box, the embers of the paper slowly burning still, her back hit the bed that Vanessa was lying on. Suddenly, the black fog rushed past her and she felt a stinging sensation of her face.

"Ow," She winced and put her hand to her face, it was wet with blood.

The black sank into the box, and Elizabeth leapt foreword and shut the lid. Snatching the candle from Vanessa's bedside and dripped it onto the box, watching the white wax bubble and leak into the decorative surface of the box.

It was done and Elizabeth sat back against the bed.

"Vanessa. Vanessa, it's done, it's over,"

Elizabeth heard Vanessa groan wearily as she sat up but continued to look at the wall in front of her with determination.

"Miss. Hare," Came the sultry, tired voice of another woman and Elizabeth slowly turned her head.

Vanessa gasped, "Your face, you've been scratched by something!"

The older woman tried to move to take her hand but Elizabeth shrank back, dabbing at the congealing blood on her face. "It's really alright Miss. Ives, please, stay lying down,"

Vanessa was concerned, it seemed the girl had been scratched by claws, but she was so tired, she had no energy for anything but sleep right now.

Elizabeth looked for Victor, waiting for him to run to her and check she was okay.

"Mr. Chandler," Victor's voice alerted Elizabeth to the figure in the corner of the room, Victor was prying open his eyelids but was greeted by only a blank stare. There was dried blood that had leaked down onto his lips. He had a concussion and possibly worse.

"Doctor?" Sir Malcolm asked, though he was still preoccupied by Vanessa's clammy forehead then Ethan's possible brain damage.

"There's not much I can do for him, he needs a hospital..." Finally, Sir Malcolm rose from Vanessa's bedside and went to the door, he nodded at the comatose body of Ethan and exited.

"I'll ring for an ambulance," The remnants of his voice petered out.

Elizabeth finally stood up and walked tentatively towards Victor who had placed Ethan into a position to aid his airwaves. Victor stood up from his position of crouching and barged past her, he swept up his doctor's bag and exited with a smiling nod towards the dozing Vanessa. Elizabeth followed like a lost puppy, almost stepping on his heels as she tried to catch up with him.

"Victor," She whistled and stumbled back when he whipped round to face her. He advanced on her, his face a stone, a picture of suppressed anger.

"That was not how it should have been done. You nearly _killed _someone! You _might _have _killed _someone!"

Elizabeth's chest heaved in air, she stood, frozen in the hallway and Victor strode away from her once again. Elizabeth's lip trembled, he hadn't even mentioned the deep scratches in her cheek, her own sacrifice to help _his _friend. How could he blame her when it was _his _idea that she should try it?!

Possibly angered now, she followed him to the doorway where he fiddled with the brass locks.

"Miss. Hare, Doctor. Frankenstein," They both straightened up, acting as if nothing was wrong, not even remotely, "Thank you, for what you have done today. I cannot thank you enough, especially you Miss. Hare,"

Sir Malcolm took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his weathered hand moving to cup her youthful face, a fatherly smile graced his lips.

"I'd like to invite you both to a ball I'm hosting. I hope you can both attend. You most of all Miss. Hare,"

Victor scoffed, shook his head like he was trying to snap his neck, wrenched open the door, and swept himself out into the cold air.


	12. Chapter 12

**Please god let all the italics be in place - they are important. **

**All reviews are totally amazing and will be taken into account. They're really helpful to let me know whats going well and whats going badly. I'm not perfect, no one is, I need help haha!**

Three days of brittle conversation later and it was the day of the ball. Victor strode around his apartment, attempting to button his cuffs, his white tie fell undone and limp around his neck. He had been sleeping on the wooden bench next to his table, and that was only for about three hours after he had completed his extensive nights work.

"Are you ready yet?" Victor tried not to snap.

"Your home is not very accommodating to women, Frankenstein!" Came the muffled reply.

Through the oak door Elizabeth clipped her white stockings on her garter and smoothed down her boned corset, it was difficult to breathe in but she wanted to look exceptional for Sir Malcolm's ball. She stared at the daunting task in the corner of the room: the dress she had been given by Miss. Ives. Elizabeth slipped on her camisole and petticoat and then began to struggle with the dress. It smothered her face as she swam forward to reach somewhere to push her head through. The material gushed around her legs and she felt a new weight on her waist, she sighed with relief. It was a deep blue colour, like the midnight sky and cut deeply into a V that almost exposed her breasts, the sleeves lay past her shoulders horizontally. Finally, Elizabeth grabbed her small bag and black gloves and headed out.

"I'm ready," She gasped breathlessly, frowning in annoyance when she saw he had yet to even put on his waistcoat which lay on the back of a chair.

Victor was attempting to button his sleeve almost aggressively.

"Here, let me," Elizabeth said as she offered her palm to him.

He flinched away from her, pulling his arm inwards as if he had been stung, "No! You could have, rouge or something on your hands, from your make-up,"

Elizabeth touched her fingers to her darkened lips and briefly shook her head, she washed her hands after applying her make-up always, and she would never attempt to stain someone else's clothing, especially something so expensive. The she realised: the suit was not his. Just like her dress was not hers. They were both relying on someone else's good will to be able to fit in with this lifestyle.

Victor let out a grunt of relief as the button slipped into its rightful place, he then snatched up his waistcoat and got to work buttoning that, he didn't look at Elizabeth.

"Would you like me to find your suit jacket? Your coat?" She asked but he simply shook her head so fast he may have acquired whiplash.

"I'm a grown man," He insisted.

Once Victor had dressed himself, he began to fiddle with his tie.

"I'm afraid I'm stepping in," Elizabeth said as she briskly walked over to him and slapped away his fumbling hands. With a deftness he had never seen she looped end over end, up and door and across and over and pulled both ends and suddenly he was wearing a bow tie. Not too tight, not too loose, perfect. Elizabeth let her hands relax on his chest as she stared into his tired eyes, she shook as she made the bold decision to let one hand crawl up and rest on his face. Slowly, she rested her fingers on his tight slipped frown, hoping to pry it into something warmer. She almost thought she had him, when suddenly he looked away from her. Taking the hint, she moved away from him and he turned and put on his suit jacket and coat. Silently, he opened the door and gestured for her to go outside.

He did not offer her his arm.

**...**

When they reached the ball Elizabeth was close to tears but she hid it well. Sir Malcolm greeted her with open arms, as did Vanessa. It seemed she was the star of the evening and Sir Malcolm took great pleasure in informing her of how much better Vanessa had been since Elizabeth's 'little trick' as he so affectionately called it. Vanessa insisted whatever had been inside her, was gone.

"How is Ethan?" Victor broke the camaraderie with the somber question.

Sir Malcolm looked down, "I'm afraid the outlook is bleak,"

That was all he said but it was enough for Victor to send a scathing look Elizabeth's way before moving to find his seat.

"Frankenstein!" Sir Malcolm called, jovial once again, "Dinner is not till much sooner! Now, its time to dance the night away!"

Sir Malcolm bowed deeply to Vanessa and left her to find herself a suitor. Whereas Victor sighed deeply, his hands clenching into fists before he turned around and offered Elizabeth a sardonic grin. The music swelled and suddenly there was a sea of people dancing happily around them. Elizabeth took Victor's outstretched hand and he pulled her close to his body. For a while they danced in silence.

"Victor why are you torturing me like this?" Elizabeth snarled at him, venom in her hardened voice even though she was close to tears.

Victor did not grace her with a response.

"It was _your i_dea Victor, not mine!"

"It was your 'spell'" She spat back, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"No one could have predicted what happened," She said quietly, "I can help Ethan-"

"You will do no such thing!" Victor pulled her to a halt, his nose brushing hers, "_Medicine _is what is going to help him now,"

"You are _arrogan_t, Victor," With a gentle push she spurred him into twirling her around once again, "You want to be right all of the time when you cannot possibly be right all of the time, and so you rely on science because science is _right _but even science isn't right all of the time. Science hurts people too Victor, science goes wrong too, how can science be the _only _thing you believe in?!"

If anyone could tell they were fighting, they didn't interrupt, possibly for fear of breaking the beautiful shell of two people perfect together as they danced around the ballroom.

"I don't only believe in science," He practically laughed in her face.

"Then what _do _you believe in?"

Victor was suddenly silent, he had stopped her again and was no staring at the floor, hoping to find bravery in the reflection of his shoes.

"I believe in love," He laughed gently to himself, gaining moment and passion as he explained to her, "It's not a chemical in the brain, it isn't something that happens in the body. It's something different, something more, something I cannot possibly put my finger on. It is captured in words, in poetry, in a book; it transcends boundaries and borders and class, and it is the sun and the moon and the brink between life and death. It is you and I."

"It is?" Elizabeth choked out. She wanted him to touch her bare skin again, but it would be too uncouth for a place like this.

"Outside," Victor demanded, taking her hand and pulling her through the throng of people and out the double doors of the building into the frigid air.

"You are everything I despise in this world, Elizabeth Hare," Victor said and to her despair he was serious. "But yes, it is."

The he kissed her, his coarse fingers were on her cheek, his mouth was worryingly hard on hers and she could have guess ed that his eyes were open and searching for signs of approval on her face and so, to reassure him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded his fingers through each strand of his golden hair.

And she loved him.

And he loved her.

And neither of them knew why.


End file.
